I am a script
I knew my purpose was to be heard, to be seen, to inspire.
But instead I was given up upon, abandon, left and forgotten.
Crumble, shredded and torn.
Thrown away, Step on and kick to the side.
Just a pile of rubbish on the pedway
You throw me away cause the story I told was not wanted.
I didn't fulfill your need, therefore I'm worthless.
Everyone walk past me.
I was wronged. It wasn't right.
My story wasn't finish.
My potential was endless.
But it ended prematurely,
While the other shine brightly.
I felt angry, hurt and violent.
I was unsatisfied
I wanted blood, knife and gun
I wanted to thin the herd.
Wanted to finally be notice.
To be the next script they read on the news.
But Gun is illegal and forbidden,
Therefore my irrational dream eventually ridden.
Instead I created a monster called kesha moon,
Fantasies on the endless violent she'll ensued,
Always felt weak and fragile,
But she was strong and fear upon,
I draw a lot of blood,
Of what the fantasy I want to accured,
I was broken inside,
I wanted people to feel the despair I coincide,
She satisfy my hunger,
She didn't fix what's inside,
She fan the fire,
Fuel my anger.
YOU ARE READING
Escapism From The City Of Gray
Short Story"I live in a city, while everyone live in a lowly village, a suburban residence , a shack in the forest, I live in a city, where everything is near and convenient, I live in a city, where the intelligence gets made, where opportunities are found...
